Brendon (10 page)

“Brendon, please.”

He knew what she was seeking, so he slipped one finger inside her.

Holy fuck, she was tight. So damn tight. For a brief moment, he worried he might hurt her. He wasn’t exactly small, but she most definitely was. Hell, he wasn’t even considered average. That thought was fleeting as he fucked her with his finger, licking her, teasing her clit until she was bucking against him, the sound of his name on her breathless moans making his dick throb.

When the pain of holding himself back became too much, Brendon crawled up onto the bed, snatched the condom from the comforter, and rolled it on. He was back over her in an instant, their mouths crashing together, her arms coming around him, holding him to her.

“I need to be inside you,” he told her between kisses. “I want to feel your pussy grip my dick. It’s the only fucking thing I can think about.”

“God, yes,” she moaned, her hands sliding down his back, settling on his ass as she pulled him to her.

Brendon managed to get his hand between their bodies enough to align himself with her entrance and then . . . Holy fucking shit.

“Chey, baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, still trying to pull him to her, forcing him deeper.

“Baby, you’re tight,” he said through clenched teeth. “So fucking tight.”

Her pussy clasped him, pulling him, her muscles tightening as she shifted, her knees cradling his hips.

“Brendon, please. I need to feel you.”

Lord, he wasn’t sure he was going to last long enough to pump into her. As it was, he wasn’t inside her fully and he was so fucking close.

Pulling his mouth from hers, Brendon focused on watching her, the way her beautiful features contorted with pleasure as he pushed into her then withdrew. He continued to slowly penetrate her again and again, reveling in the way she said his name, the way she seemed to want to touch him everywhere. When her hand clasped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, he drove into her, balls-deep.

“Fuck,” he groaned against her lips. “It’s too good. I need to fuck you, Cheyenne. I need to see your face when you come.”

Cheyenne released him and Brendon forced himself up to his knees, gripping her hips and lifting her ass off the bed as he fucked her, driving into her as her back bowed, her head thrown back. She was so fucking beautiful, it damn near hurt to look at her.

“Harder,” Cheyenne pleaded. “Oh, yes. That feels so good. Don’t stop, Bren. Don’t stop.”

Now that he had regained some semblance of control, he had no intention of stopping. He maintained a steady rhythm until his thighs burned from the position, but still he didn’t stop fucking her, driving his cock into her slick heat, watching where their bodies were joined. He repositioned his hands on her slender hips, still holding her up as he pressed his thumb against her clit, his eyes darting up to her face as she cried out, her hands gripping the blankets beneath her.

“Come for me, Chey. Come all over my cock, baby.”

When she cried out, her first orgasm gripping her, Brendon doubled his efforts, pumping his hips, driving into her, over and over, faster, harder, until sweat dripped down his face. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. He wanted to fuck her all damn night, to keep them joined, to never let her go.

But that wasn’t in the cards because his release was inevitable. She felt too damn good.

Pressing his thumb to her clit once again, he worked her up until Cheyenne was chanting his name over and over, her inner muscles constricting, milking him until he couldn’t hold back.

“Come for me, Chey. Come again, baby. Fuck.”

“Bren!”

Cheyenne’s back bowed off the bed, the muscles in her thighs tensing, her breasts thrust upward, and Brendon lost his control, his orgasm ripping through him. And as he filled the condom, the strangest feeling washed over him. Something he’d suspected but hadn’t known was possible.

It may have been too soon, but Brendon was pretty damn sure this was love he was feeling. The inexplicable sensation that flooded his chest, making him want to keep this woman close, hold her in his arms, never, ever let her go.

He’d never felt it before. Not once in all his life.

And he was almost positive he would never feel anything like it again. Not for anyone but Cheyenne.

Despite the epiphany, Brendon didn’t have a fucking clue what he was supposed to do about that.

Not a fucking clue.

chapter
ELEVEN

O
kay, so missionary sex had never been like
that
before.

At least not in her experience.

Cheyenne could hardly breathe, but she was trying to. Part of that was her fault. She wasn’t much into cardiovascular workouts these days, but that . . . Wow.

Brendon had disappeared, but she heard him in the bathroom and assumed he was disposing of the condom. A second later he returned, crawling onto the bed beside her, his warmth enveloping her, bringing with it a sense of peace. When he slipped his arm beneath her head, she turned to him, throwing one arm over his broad chest, one leg over his muscular thigh, and inhaled his sexy, masculine scent.

“How’d I do? Enough proof for you?” he asked softly, amusement in his raspy tone.

“Hmmm,” she replied, pretending to be considering that statement. “I might have to have a repeat to make sure.”

Brendon’s deep, gruff chuckle made her heart swell.

Honestly, the sex had been precisely as she’d anticipated. Off-the-charts incredible. There’d never been any doubt in her mind that when the two of them eventually gave in—and there’d been even less doubt about them finally taking the leap—there’d be nothing to compare to. And there wasn’t.

What did surprise her was the way Brendon was acting. Part of her had expected him to dress and disappear out the door, not climb back into bed and pull her to him. Cheyenne had to believe that for a man who claimed he wasn’t good at communicating with women, he didn’t know what he was talking about. Right here, right now, he was good with her, and in her opinion, that was all that really mattered.

“I’m starvin’,” Brendon said after a few minutes.

“Me too,” she said. “Should we get food?”

“Somethin’,” he replied. “I need somethin’ to get my strength up. Especially since we’re gonna be doin’ that again and again. You know . . . until I get it right, that is.”

Cheyenne giggled, smacking his chest. “I don’t think it gets much better than that.”

Brendon kissed her forehead. “Honey, that was just the beginnin’. You just wait.”

Cheyenne couldn’t wait. She wanted more of him right then and there, but she agreed, they needed food. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast and they’d worked outside for most of the day.

“What sounds good?” she questioned, not bothering to move from the warm spot against his chest. His heart rate had settled back to normal and the rhythmic
thump-thump
against her ear was relaxing her even more.

“You,” he murmured against her head, his lips still pressed to her forehead.

Smiling to herself, Cheyenne rubbed his smooth chest with her fingertips, outlining the rigid muscles she found there. She remembered back to the night he’d carried her to bed when she’d been drunk. She’d been wasted, but not so much that she didn’t remember telling him he was a good guy. Granted, she wouldn’t say that to him now, even if she did still believe it. Brendon Walker was a bad boy to the bone. Not in a negative way, but in a way that she didn’t think he understood entirely. He was sexy and mischievous, sure, which ultimately made him a bad boy, but at the core, he truly was a good guy.

She suspected he was just like the rest of the human race: he didn’t know what it was he wanted. That was something she’d encountered in her own life. She’d known what it was she
didn’t
want, but what she did want used to elude her.

Until that moment. Without a doubt, she wanted him. Mind, body, and soul. Every single piece he’d be willing to give her.

Not that she thought it would be a good idea to ask him for that. He was as hesitant as she was when it came to relationships. She knew her own reasons for keeping her distance from people, but she wasn’t sure about his. One of these days, she fully intended to ask him.

Figuring dinner wasn’t going to make itself, Cheyenne went to sit up, but quickly found herself beneath Brendon once again. The heat of his body was a comforting security she hadn’t had in a very long time and she embraced that, embraced him. When his mouth met hers, she gave in to his kiss. It was sweet, yet there was a kinetic energy that pulsed beneath the surface. If they weren’t careful, they’d spend the rest of the night right there.

Not that she had a problem with that, but they did have to eat.

When he pulled back, Cheyenne smiled up at him. The sun was going down and the room was darkening, but she could still see him clearly, the way his eyes sparkled with heat. Yeah, it would be so easy to give in to him once more.

“Dinner,” he said gruffly. “And for the record, once we get blinds on all your windows, you might just find yourself walkin’ around naked.”

“Is that right?” she probed, a tingle igniting in her belly. Cheyenne added the word
dominant
to the list of characteristics she liked about him.

“That’s right. Until then though, I’ll let you put my shirt on. But nothin’ else.”

Cheyenne’s core tightened, her thighs trembled. The idea of walking around in only his T-shirt . . . being at his mercy whenever he wanted her . . .

Heavens.

She wasn’t sure she was going to survive him.

But she was damn sure going to try.

DINNER CONSISTED OF
Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Macaroni.

Brendon had searched through the pantry and the refrigerator as soon as they made their way downstairs. If he hadn’t kept himself busy cooking dinner, he would’ve found other ways to keep busy. He’d had no choice, considering Cheyenne was dressed in his T-shirt and nothing else. Although the damn thing dwarfed her, coming down to her knees, the sleeves hitting her mid-forearm, she still looked so fucking hot. As much as he’d wanted to spend some extra time getting intimately acquainted with her body, he had wanted to feed Cheyenne first.

Now that the kitchen was clean once again, the two of them were sitting on the back porch in the dark while Scrap wandered somewhere nearby in the grass. Brendon could hear the little dog sniffing around, searching for whatever it was that kept him happy.

As for Brendon, he was happy right where he was. “I meant to tell you, I talked to my buddy Z. He’s gonna do some diggin’ into your stalker. He’ll hit me up when he finds somethin’.”

Cheyenne peered over at him, but it was too dark to see her face. “His name’s Z?”

“Zachariah Tavoularis. Goes by Z.”

“That’s certainly a mouthful. I can see why he shortened it. Speaking of security . . . I was gonna talk to Kylie about gettin’ some lights put out here,” Cheyenne noted as she sipped her tea.

“We can do that ourselves.” As soon as the words were out, he realized what he’d said. “Sorry. If you’d rather her do it . . .”

“No, that’d be good. I’d like to learn how to do it myself, so you can teach me.”

Brendon wondered whether she’d caught his slipup. He hadn’t meant to insinuate himself into her life so easily, but the thought of helping her fix things around the house gave him purpose, something he hadn’t had in far too long.

The silence lingered for a few minutes, interrupted only by the infrequent wobble and clank of the ceiling fans above them, and he remembered the question he’d asked earlier. The one she hadn’t bothered to answer.

“What do you think about goin’ to Sawyer’s party with me next weekend?”

The darkness had settled so completely and the lack of light made it so that he could barely make out Cheyenne’s profile as she turned to look at him. “I’d like that. At the resort, you said?”

“Technically, his club, but yeah.”

“I haven’t seen his club yet. I went to Zane’s for his reception.”

“If you’ve seen one, you’ve pretty much seen the other,” he replied.

“Why is it that you didn’t take part in the resort?” Cheyenne questioned.

“Not my thing, I guess.”

“So you like workin’ at Walker Demo?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. Even before I graduated high school when my brothers were puttin’ things together. The idea of bein’ part of my family’s business . . . one that allows me to do what I enjoy doin’ . . . it suits me.”

“Does it bother you that Travis moved on to the resort?” Cheyenne asked.

“At first it did,” he told her honestly. “I understood his need to keep fulfilling his dreams, but I guess I felt like he was abandoning something we’d worked our asses off to build. But I think I was more bothered by the fact that Kaleb was so quick to move on. Walker Demo had been his dream child and when he went to work at the resort, I felt like he turned his back on us.”

“You don’t feel like that anymore?”

“Nah. When I found out Jared was comin’ in to take over that part of it, I guess it just made sense.”

“How’s he doin’? Jared?”

“Good, I guess. Don’t talk to him much. We’re like two peas in a pod these days, both of us dealing with . . . Let’s just say our mirroring negativity has clashed on numerous occasions.”

“I thought he was doin’ better now that Derrick’s with him.”

“He is. But he’s still pissed at his ex for abandoning her kid,” Brendon explained. He knew that Jared had made several attempts to contact Sable over the last few months, but she’d been off gallivanting with her new man. Brendon didn’t believe Jared was jealous—not even a little bit—but that he had his son’s best interest at heart and deep down knew the kid needed his mother.

“How’s his little boy?”

“Growin’ like a weed. Every time I see him, seems he’s grown another inch.”

“I still can’t believe Zoey and V are both pregnant,” Cheyenne commented.

“I can. I think if Zane could keep V barefoot and pregnant for the rest of her life, he would. The guy’s over the moon about bein’ a dad. As for Zoey, well, she’s a great mom.”

Brendon hadn’t seen his youngest brother quite as excited as he was these days. The pregnancy announcements that had come a few months back hadn’t come as a complete surprise. Considering the overall size of the Walker clan, it only made sense that his brothers would start having big families of their own. And Kaleb . . . The guy radiated happiness from every pore. “Do you want kids?”

Cheyenne choked, and Brendon couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah, so he’d caught her off guard with that one. “Sorry,” he said, chuckling. “I didn’t mean
now
. I meant in general.”

She was silent for a moment before she said, “Yeah, I’d like a couple of kids. A dog or two. Maybe a few horses.”

Brendon thought back to Cheyenne’s story about her childhood and he tried to imagine what it was like for her growing up. Having been raised in a house where family was the most important thing above all else, he couldn’t picture it. There’d been plenty of arguments growing up between him and his brothers, but that was generally the extent of it. Boys being boys and all that shit. But they’d quickly learned that when they stepped out of line, their father would be right there to keep them from stepping too far.

Brendon figured his parents’ reasons for rooting their lives in family had a lot to do with the hardships they’d endured before they ever started having kids. Hell, they had married when Lorrie was only fifteen years old, and a good sixteen years passed since the day they said their vows and the day Travis was born. He’d heard a few of the stories, knew that his parents hadn’t had it easy in the beginning and a lot had transpired during that decade and a half. As he understood it, their love and complete devotion to one another was what carried them through. Still, Brendon couldn’t imagine waiting that long before starting a family. Then again, he couldn’t imagine getting married as a teenager, either.

That’s ultimately what Brendon wanted for himself though: his own family. Like what Kaleb, Zane, Travis, Ethan, Braydon, and Sawyer—every last damn one of them—had.

It’d taken him a while to figure it out, but he’d had a full year to accept it. He wanted a wife and kids. The whole nine yards. Not that he saw that in his immediate future, but it had always been something he secretly desired. It just wasn’t what others expected him to want, and maybe that was part of the reason he was the way he was. He’d established a reputation—him and Braydon together—as a playboy. The whole Doublemint-twin deal: two times the pleasure, two times the fun. And because they had flaunted the fact that they were a package deal—because for years on end they were—that was the type of women they had attracted.

Sure, he wanted a woman who wasn’t intimidated by her own desires, her own fantasies, wasn’t scared to experiment and test her boundaries, but he also wanted a relationship that was deeper than mere lust.

Something compelled Brendon to reach for Cheyenne’s hand, linking their fingers together as they sat there listening to the sounds of the night, the wind rustling through the pecan trees, the cicadas chirping, and Scrap’s nails scraping on wood as he moved from spot to spot, checking out his surroundings with his nose. When she didn’t say anything, he let the comforting feeling wash over him. “Don’t make me leave tonight, Cheyenne.”

He didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but they’d come out on their own. As soon as they were out there, he realized how he sounded—somewhat needy, maybe a little desperate—but he couldn’t do much about it. Nothing other than hold his breath and wait for her to respond.